


What Could Have Been

by lowstandards



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur is so smitten, BAMF Merlin, BAMF Morgana, Canon Era, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, M/M, Magic Revealed, Morgana deserves better, Plot, Slow Build, Slow Burn, and oblivious, it’s slow burn so this shit IS ALL EVENTUAL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-03-10 19:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13508298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowstandards/pseuds/lowstandards
Summary: Merlin knows Morgana has magic, and he knows the danger her fear of her power could cause. He’s caught between his destiny to protect Arthur and the warnings  of her power. But in learning to trust her, in guiding her through her powers, Merlin learns he doesn’t have to bear his destiny alone. However, Morgause does not so quickly side with Merlin’s propaganda that magic is meant for good and means to attack Camelot and destroy both Uther and Arthur. The only option is to accept that magic surrounds them and rules Camelot’s destiny.





	1. The Moment of Truth

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series rewrite based on the ideas that Morgana deserved better, and so did Mordred, and we’ll pretend Merlin is capable of making good decisions. Also, Arthur is, as always, completely oblivious. Please excuse certain inconsistencies, this is fanfic but it is based on alternating from a certain point in canon. While deviating from canon almost entirely, I do try to keep true to certain events that provided a good character arc and I believe would be inevitable. As it regards background though, I’m taking the artistic liberty of manipulating when some events happen to avoid inserting boring chapters and digressions just to accomplish a small checklist of prerequisites to events.

“I’m not sure if I’m more or just as equally mystified as Arthur as to why he hasn’t sacked you yet,” Gaius yelled, always a welcome awakening.

Merlin was late, though that word may have become an understatement. he was exhausted and had slept in, rather unfortunately for both he and Arthur. “The prat has to learn to wait like everyone else!” the sorcerer yelled back as he finished getting ready, “god forbid he have to dress himself!”

“You can’t keep addressing me like that,” Merlin froze, mentally kicking himself for the massive proverbial foot in his mouth. He stepped out of his bedchambers with a sheepish grin on his face, looking to see Arthur, dressed, with a look of set annoyance.

“I’m sorry, it seems I underestimated his _Royal_ Prat,” Merlin smiled, “he _can_ dress himself. It seems I may be out of a job after all.”

And Arthur shook his head, grumbling what sounded like “we’ll see,” before motioning for his manservant to follow him out of Gaius’ hut. The physician and apprentice shared a look before Merlin hurried after him.

“If I found out you slept in because of a night at the tavern, I swear Merlin, I’ll put you in the stocks,” Arthur threatened as they stepped out onto the steps out of the citadel. Apparently the fact that Merlin was never hungover or never stank of ale wasn’t enough to convince the dear Crown Prince that Gaius’ “he’s in the tavern” lie was blatantly false.

“I wasn’t drunk,” Merlin defended but Arthur just turned to him with a look that would have been furious if it didn’t also reveal a certain level of exhaustion.

“No, I’m sure you weren’t, but you won’t provide a better or honest reason, and there’s only so many conclusions I can come to.” Merlin assumed these conclusions were all false and increasingly wildly inappropriate, and therefore didn’t put too much into defending himself from things Arthur didn’t know. He really slept in because he was exhausted after a long list of chores on top of defending Arthur and Camelot constantly. Though he had grown used to the thankless work, the physical exhaustion of using his magic so frequently and to certain extents was impossible to prepare for and equally impossible to tell Arthur about.

Neither one said anything more as they headed to the training field. It was the judgement day of a small group of men, to determine whether they could beat Arthur and join the king’s guard. Though the ceremony wasn’t unique, it was a day that was special to Merlin because it meant he was not directly involved in combat training and could instead watch safely from the sideline. As usual, in their unspoken tradition, Gwen came across the grass to join him in assessing the potential recruits.

“So, who are we rooting for?” She stopped at his side and looked up at him with her usual dazzling smile.

“In my opinion,” Merlin grinned back, the part where they both pretended to be experts in evaluating combat, “none of them are too remarkable. Some of their footwork is just appalling, and if they have dexterity, they lack strength. I’d be surprised if Arthur says any of them are ready for Uther’s personal guard.” She laughed at his side and they settled into quiet observation of the matches. When he looked back at Guinevere, Merlin caught an unexpected look on her face of loss, a sadness that revealed bittersweet nostalgia. “You miss him,” he said softly.  
His comment seemed to surprise her, but regardless of any embarrassment, she nodded. “I know he still loves you,” Merlin continued but she let out a short, forced-sounding laugh and a shake of her head.  
“Thank you Merlin, but you don’t have to say that. I want him to do what’s best for him, not what I want.”

“It can be easily argued that there’s an overlap there.”

“Merlin,” Gwen sighed, finally glancing back at him, “I don’t want to talk about Lancelot. I understand you’re trying to comfort me, but I’ve made peace with his absence, it’s best if you do as well.”

That was a lie and they both knew it, but for her sake, Merlin nodded and turned back to look at the soldiers. As they had predicted, none of he soldiers proved good enough, but rather kindly, were told they could be reconsidered whenever they were truly ready. And with the trial complete, Merlin was back to work, preparing a bath for Arthur, fetching his laundry, polishing his armor, the usual.

His next respite wasn’t until the banquet that night. He was able to clean Arthur’s bedchambers quickly when he was alone in no way at all due to an abuse of magical powers and joined the festivities afterwards. The ceremonies usually meant for the knights and been transformed into an event honoring the sanctity of knighthood and the efforts put forth by all the candidates. The hall was filled with enough celebration that formality was overlooked and Merlin could just enjoy seeing the court happy and talk to Gwen in the corner. Arthur was three goblets passed what Merlin considered safe and he wasn’t even sure who kept giving him more wine, but even Uther was enjoying himself; the only person who seemed reserved was Morgana. There were a number of reasons that could have been assigned to her almost hidden discomfort, and Merlin believed it primarily rested in that she was watching a room full of men be drunk and merry and boisterous and as funny as it was, it easily grew stale as entertainment.

After Arthur struggled to stand and required three aids to get off the floor, Merlin stepped forward and insist he retired, and Uther amazingly agreed. It was at that point that Morgana also said goodnight. As soon as Merlin had dragged Arthur’s barely conscious intoxicated body out of the great hall, Morgana and Gwen both helped him. “Who kept filling his cup?” Merlin grunted, holding Arthur under his armpits, the prince’s head weakly lolling back against the manservant’s stomach.

“He’s pathetic,” Morgana commented, but looked to the other two with shared affection for their idiotic subject. Together, the three successfully carried him to his bedchambers without embarrassingly meeting anyone else. “Guinevere,” Morgana spoke when they reached the door, “it might be more appropriate if you don’t enter, I’ll be in my own rooms as soon as he’s settled.”

Gwen nodded at her dismissal and only did so much as open the doors for them before leaving.

“Thank you,” Merlin huffed when they rather unceremoniously dropped Arthur onto his bed. He’d have to just magic him into his night clothes and leave a draught for the guaranteed hangover. “Morgana?” he’d snapped out of his planning to look over at her and see an expression of pain.

It seemed to pass quickly, but maybe that was at his concern, for she seemed to focus, shaking her head, and then looking to him, “it’s nothing.”

“Are you hurt?” Merlin continued, trying to lead her to sit down at the prince’s table but she just waved a hand.

“I’m just tired,” she insisted, but her face had grown pale and her eyes held an unshakeable fear.

“Is it your nightmares?” Damn Merlin for knowing everything, and in this instance, damn Gaius as well for telling him everything. Morgana hesitated long enough for Merlin to know that was the case. “I thought they had gone away.”

“They had,” she was exasperated, finally accepting the seat he had kept pressuring her towards, “they were gone and I thought that was it. But now they’re so much worse, only destruction and death. And Gaius says I just need to keep taking his medicine, and above all not tell Uther…” Morgana trailed off with tears pricking her eyes and a look of mingled desperation and fear that was a punch to Merlin’s gut. “It’s magic,” she breathed, “I know it is. That’s why Gaius dismisses it, it’s why it creeps into my bones, it’s why strange things are always happening and it’s why I can’t tell Uther.”

The thrill of just the word magic thrummed though Merlin, and he, captivated, took the chair at her side, willing her to continue. She didn’t. She shook her head, as if it was dawning in her that she shouldn’t tell him either. But Merlin was desperate, the same look on her face reflected within him. Magic. He wasn’t alone. Of course, he couldn’t tell her that, and Gaius had his reasons for wanting her not to know, so who was he to confirm her beliefs? But to leave Morgana in the dark? His friend and now the only person likely to understand him? It was torture not knowing what his own powers meant, and that was before he had arrived in Camelot and known his destiny. To have to hone that power under Uther’s nose and as suddenly as Morgana was facing it would be unimaginable torment. He wanted to cry out, to scream and proclaim his destiny, his identity. He wanted to cloud the room in dancing smoke, wanted to make the torches glow bright and flowers bloom, wanted to show her his own gifts. But the longer he sat there, imploring, he realized how horrible she could take his silence and when she looked ready to cry and bolt from the room, he choked out a weak “I know.”


	2. The Witch’s Quickening

Morgana only looked at him incredulously, probably, of all things, expecting that response the least. Tears still threatened to overflow, her whole body sat tense, but Merlin’s slight affirmation had meant something monumental.

“I know,” he repeated, surer now. His mind was racing with all the kings he couldn’t say. He knew because he was a sorcerer, he knew because he was destined to be the greatest sorcerer, because he knew the fear and the isolation.

Just as Morgana opened her mouth to speak, though the question “how?” was clear enough on her face, he cut in, “Will.”

“In Ealdor, my friend Will, he had magic,” Merlin internally congratulated himself for lying, for he believed it was the best lie he’d ever told, except for, of course, not being a sorcerer. “We always knew he had it, but of course it was illegal. He saved us that day though, with the wind, before he died.” It felt wrong to lie about Will’s memory, but considering the alternative was revealing the truth and putting both of them in jeopardy. “It’s not the same as having magic, I know,” oh gods did he know, “but please don’t believe I have anything against you.”

A flicker of relief passed over Morgana’s face before she broke into a smile. Merlin realized he had never seen her look so vulnerable before. “Merlin-“ she was cut off by Arthur making his presence known, snoring loudly across the room. It was as if that fixed the tension in the air and both of them laughed, “Merlin, thank you.” He nodded and before any more could be said, she was gone to retire for the night. His adrenaline was subsiding, and exhaustion replaced it. Merlin glanced back over at Arthur and rolled his eyes at his state before doing all he had planned before, magicking bedclothes onto the prince and summoning Gaius’ hangover remedy in a vial on the bedside.

When he left the room, though his heart had calmed, his mind was still racing. He had already known about Morgana’s magic, though having believed the dreams stopped, thought the power had subsided. But now she knew, and he knew. Not being able to tell her the truth was like a dagger inside him, he always hated carrying this great secret, but Merlin knew he had no choice. However, he’d found a way around it, to reassure Morgana and keep his own destiny private. Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything, but maybe it meant avoidance of the fear he had grown up with. More than anything, he wanted to guide her, to show her the good that she held in her heart and that lay at magic’s purpose. Camelot’s history didn’t really support that truth, with Uther, and Arthur’s mother and the Great Purge, but Merlin knew –as did a few others– the reality of magic.

He could hardly sleep that night, staying up flipping through his book thinking of where to begin teaching Morgana. Merlin realized he couldn’t stay dormant in his knowledge, and instruction was the best option. Gaius hadn’t really taught him anything in controlling his magic, no one had, and he wanted Morgana to have that authority. The risk of her not being able to control a change in her power was death.  
-  
“Merlin!” Morgana looked at the servant, shock and a lighthearted confusion was clear. It was early in the day, the castle full of the excitement of servants running about to perform their morning duties, and there Merlin stood, in her bedchambers.

“I know this is… inappropriate, so please don’t misunderstand,” Merlin rambled, “but I wanted to stop by early, to say that I meant everything I said last night.” The mention of their last conversation sobered Morgana’s amusement, “and I want to help you, I was there with Will as he tried to learn his magic, and I want to do the same for you. I don’t need to point out the risks, but I promise you Morgana, that this means everything to me.”

She took a moment, his words washing over her, before she politely smiled, “and I don’t need to point out that this _is_ inappropriate, but now’s not the time to discuss this.”

How on earth was now not the time?! If now wasn’t, when would the time be, when Uther legalized magic? After Morgana’s magic got out of control? Merlin was going to protest but she started pushing him out the door. He didn’t fight her, too stuck in his own disbelief. What he would have done for any guidance!

The door shut behind him and he wasn’t going to bother trying again. Dejected, he headed to Arthur’s chambers to do his actual job. The crown prince was already stirring when he arrived. “Merlin!” There was shock on Arthur’s face that strangely paralleled Morgana’s expression earlier; it was emphasized by insincerity, “you’re on time! I had assumed you decided never to wake me up again.”

Merlin shook his head, placing a breakfast tray he had run to fetch between royal bedchambers visitations, “and miss seeing you at your finest? I could never.”

“My finest?” A smirk pulled at Arthur’s lips, “that’s hardly appropriate considering my state of dress so early in the day.”

Merlin felt his face go red, because Arthur’s frequent nudity was not at all what he had been referring to. He coughed, “I _meant_ when you’re still asleep. You’re much more tolerable when you’re snoring.”

A pillow narrowly missed Merlin’s head. “Merlin, we’re hunting today, so I need you to prepare the horses after you’re finished here.”

“Of course, sire.”

“And I think I’ll have a bath when we return.”

Bitingly now, Merlin nodded, “of course, sire. I’ll ask the maids to bring it up while we’ve gone so it’s ready as soon as you’re ready.” He stopped himself from mentioning that Arthur had just bathed yesterday.

Arthur had slipped into his clothes behind the screen and came out putting his belt on, “I think the stables need to be cleaned…”

He was pushing it, and Merlin glanced at him, daring him to add to the list of chores. Arthur however had made his way to the door, swept up in his head which was no doubt filled with plans for their hunt.  
-  
The sun was still high in the sky —just passed midday— when they returned to the citadel. Merlin’s chores had felt endless, and it almost seemed as if that had been Arthur’s intent. Exhaustion was set deep in his bones when the sorcerer slumped at Gaius’ table that evening, feeling the day’s work settling into a headache.

“Muck out the stable?” Gaius asked when he turned and ladled two bowls of stew, doing little to hide a smirk.

“More than that,” Merlin grumbled and felt he couldn’t even lift his hand to eat. “Arthur seemed very set on killing me today.”

Gaius paused, watching his apprentice for a moment after he sat down, “it’s more than that though.”

It was ridiculous after all these years together, for Merlin to think he could hide anything from the physician. “I was talking to Morgana,” and Gaius gave him a look showing he figured what was coming, a retort already on the tip of his tongue, “her nightmares are back.”

“Of course, we knew they would return, Merlin.”

“Yes, but Gaius, she’s terrified. She knows it’s magic, why tell her differently? And she was talking and scared, and she admitted that and realized she shouldn’t have told me-“

“Merlin…”

“But Gaius, I can’t leave her oblivious!”

“ _Merlin_.”

“So I told her I knew it was magic,” cutting off the sorcerer didn’t seem to satisfy Gaius now, and he just looked incredulously at him. “But I didn’t tell her about _my_ magic, so don’t look at me like that! I told her it was Will, back in Ealdor, and that I understood. Morgana’s the only person I have, Gaius, and I’m the only person _she_ has! If I could-“

“Merlin if you tell her anything about your magic you risk your life, and you know that. And more than that, you risk your destiny, Arthur’s protection, and the wellbeing of all of Camelot!”

“I know!” Merlin dropped his head into his hands, letting out a groan. He hated that Gaius was right, he hated the whole situation to the finest detail, and was well aware of the complications. “But I didn’t tell her Gaius. I lied, as I always do, and said that I understood because of Will, that I helped him with his magic, because I was the only one there for him. If you could have seen her relief! I want her to trust me, I don’t want her to be alone…”

Gaius too sighed and they both had the unspoken acceptance that their mutual stress and tension resolved them to lose their appetite. The physician had no words to convey his thoughts, for having survived the Purge, he understood the fear Morgana and Merlin had, but to risk all of Camelot for the sake of companionship? He had thought Merlin above that.

“I didn’t know what to do, so I went to her this morning, offered myself as a guide, and she dismissed me entirely! As if last night never happened! I don’t understand… there’s so much I would have done for that offer when I was in her position, and with Uther, she needs the help much more than I did!” He stopped there, his adrenaline at the passion of his confusion was settling and his previous exhaustion was creeping back.

They both sat for a while in silence, meal abandoned and minds racing. Gaius eventually sighed, but rather than in exasperation as before, it held a bit of amusement and he looked to Merlin with a knowing smile. “Merlin, if only you’d stop meddling, then none of this would happen.”

He knew it was meant lightheartedly, but that didn’t mean Gaius wasn’t still asking too much. He couldn’t simply stay out of it, not this time, and really not ever. Keeping secrets and minding his own business were two things Merlin had proven horrible at. With little more to say, they soon turned in, and tonight physical exhaustion outweighed the burden of magic and destiny.

But the next morning it all came rushing back as Merlin woke to the sound of the warning bells tolling. Disheveled servants and noblemen filled the castle halls, buckets were being raced up stone steps and water had sloshed onto the floors. Confusion and fear gripped the sorcerer and he ran, trying not to slide on the water-slick tiles. He didn’t even need to ask what was going on as the corridors grew hazy and everyone about him coughed at the thick air. Shouting and commotion centralized around one room, where the smoke was heavy and black. When Gwen stumbled out of the throng, Merlin quickly rushed to her.

“What happened?”

“I-I don’t know,” she choked out her response and he led her to sit down in a less populated part of the hall. “The guards smelled smoke, and there was a fire… They don’t know how it started, but no one is hurt…”

“And Morgana?”

“Arthur had to drag her out, he told me he took her to his chambers before she could be bothered.”

He breathed a thank you as he ran off again.

As said, Arthur and Morgana were both there, seeming thoroughly shaken and peppered with soot. Given the circumstances, the crown prince didn’t object to Merlin neglecting to knock. It was much quieter here, and Morgana had a blanket draped over her, sitting at the table. Arthur had been pacing, but both looked at the manservant as he entered. “Gwen told me…” was all he could manage to say.

Arthur returned to his pacing and Morgana nodded. The tension was thicker than the smoke. Merlin went to her side, realizing they occupied the same seats they had during Morgana’s confession two nights before. “Do you know how it started? It seems the guards have it all put out now, though your chambers weren’t in good shape.”

He was rambling and Arthur glared at him, it wasn’t the time to pressure her, before heading towards the door, “I’ll clear everyone out.” It was obvious he just needed an outlet, something to do other than admit to having feelings.

As soon as the door shut again, Morgana shuddered and the same expression of fear hit her, “it was me. _I_ did it Merlin, I started the fire. Oh god, there’s no telling what I could have done, and I didn’t _mean_ to do it-“

“I know,” he reassured, that pity and frustration in the pit of his stomach growing with a fierceness that paralleled the fire.

“You have to help me,” Morgana finally pleaded, “I can’t do this, this _magic_ … not alone.”


	3. The Secret Sharer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I really think I said some stuff in this chapter that was repetitive, which isn’t made any better by the fact that this is almost entirely exposition and not action. Most significantly, I repeatedly made that claim about friendship, but I do have a reason for that! Rather unsurprisingly, I think many of the characters in the series deserved so much better than they got, a concept on which I could rant without end and am restraining the extent at which I make that clear for everyone’s sake. The idea of friendship, though cheesy, is central to this fic in what makes it canon divergence, it’s one of the pillars of why I wrote this to begin with and what made the original, canon characters so fascinating. Please bear with me through some cheesy moments and exposition so I can get to the action and meaty plot that I’m so psyched to have come up with and share with all of you!

The castle was caught in a whirlwind of activity for the next few days as Morgana’s room was cleaned and Uther pushed an investigation on what he considered “an attempt on my ward’s life!” despite being told it was all because a candle had fallen over. However, Merlin felt beyond all of that, on cloud nine at Morgana and his secret. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so happy, and considering he was still swept up in a lie, his joy only went so far, but being able to confide any small portion of his magic in someone was a gift he had never anticipated. Since Morgana couldn’t stay in her usual room because of the damage, Merlin was able to use the excuse of providing extra aid to visit her. He claimed her temporary chambers were convenient for him, so instead of burdening another servant, he would carry her laundry up with Gwen, and use the opportunity to slip notes and books into her dresses for her to look over. No one questioned the behavior, except Arthur.

“I swear Merlin, you’re more dedicated to helping Morgana now than you’ve ever been to following _my_ orders.” Arthur had a look of offense on his face and Merlin couldn’t tell whether it was sincere or not.

“She actually thanks me,” Merlin shot back, and motioned to the layout of the prince’s armor on the table to show the amount of work he did.

“If you were good at your job, I might appreciate it.” The smile curling at his mouth was clear now as he turned to let Merlin suit him up.

“So any sort of positive encouragement is just asking too much?”

“And when have I ever been known to do that?”

Merlin shook his head and handed Arthur his helmet, “you’d be that kind in the company of almost anyone else.”

“Though it seems _you’re_ only component enough to deserve it in the presence of Morgana.”

The statement surprised Merlin, for it neared a level of emotion and even edged on jealousy that he hadn’t expected.

“Arthur, I’m a servant, and frankly, it’s just my job,” his defense was half-hearted, reflecting exhaustion as if this was a conversation they had frequently, “I don’t know why you’re being ridiculous about this. I can’t just leave Morgana alone-“ a statement that meant much more than he could let on “-it’s my job to help her too, but Arthur, she’s also my _friend_.”

Merlin felt for a moment that he was unsure who he was trying to convince. Of course, Arthur was being absurd in his expectations, but in a way, this situation paralleled that with Gaius. Both men were questioning the sorcerer in his aid of Morgana, though for two different reasons. The worst part was that Merlin understood: he was prioritizing Morgana over Arthur and Camelot —perhaps selfishly and rather suddenly— and so in a way, he was justifying it all to himself.

Arthur paused before saying anything, and turned away as he did, “yes… but where are my flowers?”

After such a proclamation and realization on Merlin’s part, that’s what Arthur had to say? “Your flowers?”

“I heard Morgana got some, I assumed you’d be putting them in all the rooms… or is she the only to receive a token of your affections?”

“Yes–no! No… what? It’s not, it’s not a token of anything!”

Arthur looked expectant, that shit-eating grin pulling at his lips as Merlin fumbled with picking up the sword on the table as equally as he rambled, “I’m trying to be nice! And you! You’re acting like my relationship with Morgana-“

“Relationship?”

“Friendship!” Arthur’s grin only widened as Merlin’s face grew pink, “you know what I meant! It’s not a new idea, I’ve been relatively close with her since my arrival here in Camelot! I gave her flowers because her room caught on fire! Maybe she’s scared, I don’t know! I’m just-“

“it’s alright Merlin,” the prince began cutting him off as Merlin’s face became more tinted and he waved his hands in exasperation, as though physically grasping for words.

Merlin took a moment to catch his breath before finally picking up the sword and thrusting it at Arthur in frustration.  
-  
It was when the vase exploded that night that Uther had enough. It was clear his “patience” wouldn’t last forever, having suspected a magical attempt on Morgana’s life to have started the fire. As hard as Merlin tried, he hadn’t been able to see the king’s ward all day, wanting only to provide some reassurance. Instead he was stuck with Arthur in meetings to discuss punishment of all under suspicion of sorcery. It was the frequent mention of the druids that sparked Merlin’s interest.

“Morgana!” He brought up a tray of food, had been trying all day for two seconds with her.

She stood by the window, in her hand a shard of glass from the vase, “Merlin, I can’t control it.” If her fear wasn’t clear enough in the waves of her voice it expressed itself in the rise of her brows and visible whites of her eyes. “I didn’t mean to start the fire, and this time I watched the vase explode, I knew what I was doing. Uther is going to find out, I mean he already suspects it’s magic…”

Merlin placed the tray down and went to her, a hand wrapping around hers with the fragment, “Morgana, it’s not your fault. It’s your magic, but you can’t control it yet. It’ll take time-“

“I don’t have time!” She pulled away, “You can’t understand… what it’s like to feel this burden, this _shame_ , right under Uther’s nose. I’d be killed, Merlin, if he were to find out.”

Oh gods did he know that, the urge to tell her the truth clawed at him, but at the same time Gaius and Kilgarrah’s warnings pounded at the forefront of his mind. “The druids,” he stepped closer to her, trying again for reassurance, “Uther is rounding up anyone he thinks is involved in magic, it’s not good but it gives us an opportunity. We find someone that knows the druids, and we go to them. You can meet people like you, talk to them, try to understand.”

He was as surprised at his own words as she was. It was a risk, and they both knew it. Attempting to contact the druids would have them both under arrest and Merlin’s neck on the chopping block. Morgana would be spared, maybe, but it would ruin any chance she had at understanding her magic or forgiving Uther. All of that was constant, but heightened given the increased patrols and supposed threat on Morgana’s life. Merlin sighed, “I know it won’t be easy. I’ll find out where they are… we can come up with some excuse to leave the citadel-“

“Yes,” and she looked to him with the kindest smile, “Merlin, I don’t know what anyone here did to deserve you. You care more for Arthur than anyone else has, you’ve risked your life for Gwen and now for me.”

“It’s my job,” she made the same face Arthur, Gaius, and even Uther made when they knew that excuse was misplaced. Merlin smiled softly, “besides, you’re also my friends.”  
-  
Being Arthur’s servant really makes access to private documents all too easy, which truly doesn’t reflect well on the safety of Camelot. However, Merlin only took advantage of this flaw when it was for what could be considered the greater good, though exploiting it for Morgana wasn’t technically for the good of all of Camelot, it was still beyond any selfish desire.

A woman from the lower town, Forridel, had been arrested with everyone else under suspicion of being associated with magic. It was horrible, going into the lower cells, and seeing them all packed with innocent people victim to Uther’s blind rage. Merlin made a silent vow to save them all, but he only explicitly said this to the woman in question. He couldn’t help her escape, for if she were to get out, others would want to follow and each one of them would be killed upon inevitably being caught. He brought her extra food, some rations for the rest of them as well, and guaranteed she wouldn’t be killed as incentive, though the promise he was a friend of the druids was enough for her to speak.

He told Morgana as soon as possible and they devised a plan. Considering the fragility of Uther’s temperament, it was best if Morgana didn’t just run off. They would claim Morgana was taking a pilgrimage to her father’s grave, which Uther would of course support, and considering the belief there was an attempt on her life, they would further propose the safety of leaving in disguise and not make a big deal out of it. If Gwen were to accompany Morgana, it would be too obvious who had left, but for Merlin to accompany her –under the claim for any who asked that he was gathering herbs for Gaius– provided the slight reassurance she would be protected and undiscovered. In reality they would be going straight to the druids, and if Gwen or any knights followed, deviating from the party would mean instant outcry and half the king’s army rushing after them and if Morgana were to go alone, Uther wouldn’t allow it on the basis of her safety. Also, Merlin used it as an excuse to neglect his duties to Arthur, avoid cleaning the leech tank, and of course see the druids.

“We’ll ride at first light tomorrow,” Morgana proclaimed, finishing their proposal to the king, whose forehead was creased in deep thought.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Arthur asked, “You mean to take Merlin as your protection?” He let out a small laugh in disbelief.

“He’ll attract less attention that one of your knights,” she replied, “and it’s only a small trip, it’s more important that both of us are cautious and able to care for ourselves than anything else, stealth over strength.”

“Alright,” Uther sighed, unable to deny his ward the right to visit his old friend’s grave, “I only regret I cannot join you myself.”

“I know you would if you could, my lord.”

Uther nodded at the formality, “leave at first light, and be back as soon as possible. If you’ve not returned by the evening, I’ll send out a search party.”

“I expect no less,” Morgana smiles before she turned with a polite curtsy and left the hall. Merlin followed, excitement rushing through him at approval of their plot. Morgana have him a subtle but equally enthusiastic look, a certain sparkle in her eyes. Their plan was set, and the following day they would ride out to the druids, to pursue magic right under Uther’s nose.


	4. A Servant of Two Masters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> um where Arthur is TOTALLY NOT JEALOUS OR OVERPROTECTIVE

Preparations didn’t take long considering Merlin and Morgana had their journey planned in advance. Their actions were swift and unopposed, yet still Arthur complained. It was getting to be unbelievable, the extent to which Merlin was forced to justify his behaviors. There had always been times when Arthur had questioned him, but this was excessive. For the relatively short period in which Merlin had to pack for himself and Morgana and prepare the horses, he felt overrun with the prince’s objections on top of everything else.

It wasn’t as though he could ignore his regular duties because of this treatment. Merlin had made Arthur’s bed, set everything for the evening as usual, and had brought dinner up for the prince. Despite how normal the occasion was as a whole, there was an unnatural tension as Arthur ate with clear dissatisfaction.

“Is there something wrong, sire? Though if there is, I fear the cook more than I do Uther,” Merlin admitted with a boyish grin as he filled Arthur’s goblet.

The crown prince swallowed and turned to look at his servant, before speaking, “what is the purpose of this trip with Morgana?”

“Exactly what we said earlier, she wants to visit her father’s grave.” The fear that Arthur knew there was more to the leave than they had let on was creeping in. All of it had been planned too quickly and too privately for him to have caught on.

Arthur stood, disregarding the pretense of seeming unbothered by the situation, “yes but why now? And why with you?”

“I don’t know, and it’s not my place to ask.” Merlin shook his head, placing his jug on the table, “I know I’m to go with her, and the journey isn’t that far anyway, so what does it matter?”

Arthur let out an aggravated sigh, throwing a hand up, “I swear Merlin, how did you manage to have Morgana agree to this?”

“Would it be so absurd if my presence was her idea, and I didn’t coerce her into the situation?”

“Yes, it would be! You’re to be her protection and I’ve _never_ seen you properly wield a weapon before. _Ever_.”

“You have so little faith in me,” Merlin let out a sharp laugh, “I support you wholeheartedly, and I have this position because I saved _your_ life! I don’t think it should be so unlikely that I might be able to help Morgana!” It shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did, but Arthur’s faithlessness in him was constant. No matter how many times Merlin’s guesses and aid proved helpful and true, the prince never believed him. He dealt with a lack of thanks or any appreciation, but the lack of any amount of reciprocal trust was beyond reasonable.

Arthur appeared taken aback, but his words didn’t parallel that offense, “I’m concerned for your safety. You and Morgana-“

“Morgana can take care of herself, if only you and Uther would realize that!”

“Then _your_ safety!” Arthur looked to Merlin in exasperation, “if something were to happen, it would be your life at risk. And my father wouldn’t care to do anything if you were captured or killed or even just missing. He only sees you as a servant…” There was a hint to Arthur’s words that the sorcerer couldn’t place, a certain emphasis on the word servant that bothered both of them.

“Whether your father has cared to do something hasn’t stopped you before,” Merlin criticized. He glanced at the disregarded meal on the table and then to Arthur. It didn’t matter what his objections were when there was truly a much more important reality to the mission, one which couldn’t be explained. Merlin took a second to compose himself, to hide his irritation with the seemingly one-sided nature of his relationship with the prince before clearing his throat, “My duties are finished, sire. Another servant is to wake you in the morning, for Morgana and I will have left by then. I’ll have returned in time to prepare you for dinner in the evening.” and before another objection could be made, he left.  
-  
However, Gaius voiced the same hesitation at Merlin’s departure, but it seemed largely because he suspected something more to the journey. Merlin was too tired to argue, or to truly pretend that the physician was wrong. When the question, “what’s going on between you and Morgana?” was asked over a cold dinner, he just let out a heavy sigh. The rant was weirdly the same, a concern of Merlin’s safety being prioritized while Morgana would obviously be protected by Uther’s influence. The meal was tense and conversation entirely one-sided until both bowls were empty and Merlin finally opened his mouth.

He stood, taking the dirty dishes, “Gaius, I’ve already heard it from Arthur, but nothing is going to change. I wish you both would just trust me on this-“

“Morgana cannot know of your magic, Merlin. The fate of Camelot rests in that remaining secret.”

“And her sanity rests in her knowledge of her power! Gaius, without you I would have been just as lost as she is now.” He turned back towards the physician, “I may not be able to tell her, or anyone, about my magic, but I can help her. I deal with this burden, this life-threatening, thankless destiny every day. I think I’m entitled to allow Morgana the chance to realize all the good that magic is, and everything else that you’ve shown me Gaius.”

With everything he dealt with on the daily, there was a small part of Merlin that hoped he would have grown accustomed to this treatment by now. Gaius questioning him and doubting him, Arthur doing the same and giving no trust or thanks in return… it built up and made him want to cry out the truth, no matter the consequences. However, that wasn’t an option, and it never would be. As he was constantly reminded, the future and prosperity of Camelot relied on his magic remaining secret, so any self hatred and destruction Morgana held was supposed to be ignored because recognizing magic existed was just too risky!! Just as Uther recognized magic’s omniscience with incredible hesitation and ignorance, Merlin was forced to deny how thoroughly saturated Camelot was in sorcery for the sake of secrecy. Frankly, it was bullshit.

The day felt overwhelming, like it had built up into something he didn’t understand. He had stormed out on both Arthur and Gaius, and though it was a tad uncharacteristic of him, it wasn’t wholly unprecedented. The issue of magic was personal, to say the least, and if _he_ was going to be forced to suffer in silence, he wanted to avoid the same being true for Morgana.  
-  
The morning felt just as tense as the night before it, for a reason Merlin struggled to place. He had hardly slept, anxiety turning constantly in the pit of his stomach. He had taken a long time getting dressed and preparing a meal for himself. The recognizable doubt hovering over him preventing him from reaching the haste the situation demanded. Gaius was awake and functioning at the same pace. A hesitation creating a cautious distance between he and his apprentice went unmentioned by them both.

It wasn’t until Merlin was halfway out the door when Gaius spoke, “Merlin. I hope to see you both return safely.”

  
Knowing what he really meant, the apprentice nodded and left  
-  
Morgana was wearing a dark red cloak when Merlin met her by the stables. The richness of the color and material weren’t exactly inconspicuous, but her face and figure were unseen, and from Merlin’s experience that was the extent of how covert and Camelot royalty would get. To the sorcerer’s surprise, Arthur was strapping provisions to the saddles; Merlin hadn’t expected to see him at all that morning, much less doing work.

“I’m not sure you being here really helps keep this secret,” he commented through a yawn as he began sliding his own pack into his horse’s saddle.

Arthur glared at him, “well Merlin, I’m so sorry for trying to help. I hadn’t realized it was such an issue.”

Morgana seemed to mouth “stop” at him as both she and the manservant climbed atop their mounts. “I will meet you outside the city walls,” she stated, locking eyes with Merlin before she pulled at the reigns and was gone. They had agreed to have a slight gap between their departures. One rider in the early morning was less eye catching than two.

“If I had known you wished to see her off I could have woken you and fetched an early breakfast,” Merlin’s voice was quiet, but seemed unbelievably loud in the silence that had settled.

Arthur only gave him a look that stated the truth: Merlin –a lazy servant as ever– would never have gone so above and beyond in his duties. There was also the fact that the prince had no quarrel over waking without aid, or dressing himself and the like; though he would avoid that being known at all costs.

“I didn’t just come to see Morgana off,” his voice seemed just as sharp against the heavy morning air. “I wanted to remind you of what I said last night.”

“I hardly need a reminder that you have no faith in me,” Merlin scoffed, already pulling at his reigns and wanting to follow Morgana out, to get away. However, Arthur shifted and put out a hand to steady his horse.

“I value your… _safety_ ,” the hesitation was obvious and Merlin quirked a brow as Arthur almost visibly swallowed the word “ _life_.” “Please Merlin, don’t make me have to find another servant,” Merlin let out a genuine laugh. This sound didn’t cut through the air, but seemed to dispel it, warming it and lifting the prince’s spirits. Shaking his head, the manservant led the horse out as Arthur finally stepped aside.

He met Morgana along the path out of the city just as they had agreed. The sun was cutting golden streaks in the grey air and the stifling fog of the early morning was fading. This new light was hitting the king’s ward in a way that made her seem ethereal, a scene that would have been breathtaking if it were not for the raise in her brows and the nervous way she pulled at the reigns. Wordlessly she led them off in the path of her father’s grave. The dishonesty of using Gorlois’ death like this had started to nag at Merlin, but it was an excuse that was quickly rid of as the further they got from Camelot’s walls, the more they strayed from the path. With the Forest of Ascetir in their sights, Morgana turned back to look at the sorcerer. He trotted up to her side and together they went in.

Remembering the directions of Forridel was something, it seemed, Merlin was not good at. He frequently had to reach out with his magic and hope Morgana didn’t notice. This issue was, he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for or where to look for it, and he couldn’t allow himself to more openly search for the druids. He would exhaust himself that way and his secret would instantly be revealed. “Are you sure we’re heading the right way?” Morgana finally asked when Merlin sharply changed directions.

“Yes, of course!” He gave her a weak smile and checked the area again. There was a source of power, he could hear it, and he followed it.

“Merlin!” They had traveled in silence since Morgana questioned him, but he turned to her and saw her look of confusion. “I can hear something…voices…” They had both managed to tap into the druids, able to hear them mentally, or perhaps spiritually,

But there was more than that now, and Merlin quelled her excitement, holding a hand up and steadying his horse. It was a low rumble, like thunder, but came from the trees and the earth. The feeling that it was growing darker and that their surroundings were pressing in on them clawed at Merlin. The two moved closer, into the center of a small clearing. Morgana broke the silence with a scream as a creature lurched through the underbrush, a serket, black as night. “What do we do?” she asked when their lack of weaponry became apparent to them both.

“Ride!” Merlin shared her fear and pulled at his reigns to rush off from the beast. As soon as he moved, so did Morgana, though it was because her horse reared. The other edge of the clearing was lined with the massive scorpions, clicking and shifting towards them. They were closed in, and Morgana was thrown to the ground when her horse bucked and galloped off. She let out another scream and her magic, without her control, shot out. A burst of energy no doubt meant to be directed at a serket instead hit Merlin and sent him flying off his horse, which followed the other out of the clearing. The sorcerer had hit the ground hard, he tried to sit up but pain stabbed his side and he crippled over. Tilting his head up, he saw Morgana try to move towards him but was struck by the first creature.

There was a flash of light and Merlin was unsure whether it was either of their magic, which they had very little control of at the moment. His vision was going, the pain in his side unbearable. There was a figure, the serkets parted, and he saw Morgana reach out before losing consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took me way longer to write than i intended, but it’s mostly because i knew what i really wanted for this chapter and instead i’ve broken it up into three chapters. also. this one, like the last chapter is very dialogue heavy and more exposition than action. sorry.


	5. The Kindness of Strangers

“Sire,” a knight rushed into the council chambers, “two palace horses were found abandoned, along the path to the Forest of Ascetir.”

Uther rose from his throne, as Arthur stepped forward, “father, those are the horses Morgana and Merlin rode out on this morning.”

“And the riders?” The king’s fear had already overlapped into anger.

“No sign of them, the patrols searched the outskirts of the region and waited your command to follow in.”

The elder Pendragon swore under his breath, pacing. His moment of thought was short and he turned to his son, “lead your men to the forest. Bandits, druids… whoever took Morgana will pay. Find her.”  
-  
The first thing Merlin noticed when he woke was the smell of food. He didn’t know what time it was, but the sun shone brightly through tent flaps and guessed it was just past midday. That meant he hadn’t eaten since his meager breakfast, and that was still well before dawn. The second thing he noticed was that despite the bandage he could feel tightly wound around his midsection, he felt no pain. Sitting up, he blinked, a heavy feeling in his head clearing up. He turned, finding Morgana and a stranger awake at his side. The ward sat on a cot, and the stranger on a stool beside her; he was tending to her leg but she seemed as fine as Merlin felt.

“What happened?” his voice was scratchy from dehydration and the stranger passed him a water skin. He accepted it cautiously.

The fact that he had woken up and spoken took a moment for Morgana to process, as she had been involved in the most surreal experience since leaving Camelot. She looked to her friend, eyes bright and smile soft, “Aglain saved us.” The now named stranger gave a nod of confirmation. He was clearly a druid, and certain facts were sliding into place. The flash of light, why Merlin felt no pain and Morgana was just as healed: all magic.

“The serkets would have killed us, had he not shown up. This is his camp, a druid camp. There’s magic here, pure and unrestricted.” Being surrounded by the force that was his existence was as positive as news could be for Merlin, but under the circumstances, it was just another of a long list of worries. “He saved us, tended to our wounds… I’m sorry for that, Merlin, I don’t know how it happened, I couldn’t control it…” she glanced down at his side at the dried blood spotting his shirt. “But here I would learn how to! Aglain has told me so much of the druids. They’re a peaceful people –nothing like Uther says– I can’t help but feel as though I’m finally home.”

It was the final straw and the guilt dropped into Merlin’s stomach, making him feel positively nauseous. “I feel sick,” he choked, leaning over the side of his cot and taking in shallow breaths.

“You’re probably hungry, dehydrated,” the druid finally spoke, and with a voice as smooth and soft as his was, there was no surprise he had captivated Morgana so. “I’ll have Mordred bring you something to eat,” and with that Aglain slipped out of the tent.

Mordred. Kilgarrah’s warnings of old resurfaced.

“Morgana-“ Merlin began, but the druid boy came in with a tray of food. If the intrusion wasn’t distracting enough, the smell and sight of warm bread was.

The ward’s excitement returned at the sight of the boy. As Merlin ate, she raved on about how wonderful it was to be reunited, and how good of a thing it was that they defied Uther. “I can’t leave him again Merlin, I feel as though we’re meant to be.” The nausea returned and he coughed on a bite of apple.

He tried to begin what he was saying earlier, but before he could even open his mouth there was another interruption. In the camp there was yelling, and Aglain returned, “it’s Uther’s men. They’ve entered the forest.” An “and they’re looking for you” didn’t need to be said. He glanced between Merlin and Morgana, gaze pausing on Merlin before he looked to Mordred, “we have to leave the camp, make sure everyone knows.”

“This is our fault,” Merlin said, “we can’t ask you to abandon your lives for our sake.”

The druid only waved a hand dismissively, “we expected Uther to try and raid us soon anyway. This has been a long time coming, your arrival has hardly provoked it, but rather given your king a justification to kill us off as he has always wanted to.” His tone dripped with bitterness. “I’ll allow you both to dress and then join us.” And he followed Mordred back out into the encampment.

The moment he was gone Merlin turned to Morgana, “we have to leave.” He said it with more conviction than she had heard him ever have.

“Why?” Her brows were high in disbelief and she let out a small laugh, unconvinced of his sincerity.

“Uther has sent his men out looking for us, looking for you. He’s going to believe you’ve been captured, that you’re in danger. That means those knights are under orders to kill, and to place your life above all else. Staying here guarantees the death of Aglain, Mordred, and all the other innocent people here.” He hated saying it, wanted anything but to pull her away from a magic and a people that were safe. His statement only transferred to anger, to denial on Morgana’s part.

“How dare you tell me what I need to do!” Morgana’s fury was evident, she looked incredulously at Merlin. She remained still, refusing to leave.

“Morgana we can’t stay! We risk the lives of all the druids if we do. For you to disappear… you know as well as I how Uther would react.”

“I don’t care for Uther, you see how he treats the druids but look at them! Their lives are beautiful, their magic is pure and good and free without his oppression!”

Morgana looked pained, desperate, crying out to Merlin for him to understand what was all to clear to her. And it was clear to him too. He envied the druids’ openness, but he knew it came with a price. For them to set foot near any civilization, much less the citadel, would be a death sentence. And for Morgana to suddenly disappear without a trace, never to go near civilization again would mean war for Uther.

The shouting in the druid camp grew louder and in spite of it Morgana seemed more determined to stay put.

Merlin pushed out of the tent, grumbling what sounded to the ward as “I don’t have time for this.”  
-  
The knights had stormed into the forest as quickly as possible. They had little to follow; however, there was evidence of trampled twigs and hoof prints from the horses of the missing two. That was Arthur’s path. Following it, eventually they reached a clearing. The borders were lined with the corpses of at least a dozen serkets and in the center was another. Beside the central one was a pack, which Arthur dismounted to look at, though he already recognized it as Merlin’s. He grabbed the servants bag and found with it an equally familiar red fabric. The prince held the neckerchief and looked to Leon, “they were attacked by these beasts… they could only have been saved by magic.” Along the trees were scorch marks, seeming to originate from a parting in the trees. “Our best bet is to follow that path. If we don’t find them by nightfall, we make camp and have troops spread out in the area tomorrow, at first light. ”

He climbed back on his horse, securing the pack and keeping the fabric in his hand, leading the way further into the forest.  
-  
Merlin sought out Aglain, who was giving orders to pack everything they could, but only what was necessary, and leave. Guilt stabbed him. “I’m taking Morgana back” he said before the druid leader even noticed him.

There was a look of surprise, but it seemed more at Merlin’s frankness rather than his meaning. “I understand this life is better for her,” the sorcerer began explaining, waving a hand to refer to the camp, “but we can’t do this to you. Her being here jeopardizes the lives of you all. Maybe one day we can return, find a way to bridge the gap between your lives and Camelot, but not now.”

“Are you sure this is the best thing for her?”

“No,” Merlin shook his head, a pained expression flickering across his face, “but I know you are all in danger, and it’s because we’re here. She wants to practice her magic, of course, but she can’t do it by getting all of you killed. There isn’t a choice.”

“And the Lady Morgana agrees with you?”

The look the druid gave Merlin showed him quite clearly that he already knew the answer.

“I wish to return, for us both to come back when it is safer, to at some point have no barrier between our lives,” Merlin was pleading with him, “but we both know that isn’t the case. I’ll take care of leading her back, you and your people can stay here.”

There was a tense pause. “Does she know?”

Merlin swallowed, then shook his head, “no.” It was hardly audible, “and she can’t yet. I want to tell her, it pains me beyond anything to keep it secret. But she deserves better than that, that’s all I’m trying to give her.”

“Of course.”  
-  
Merlin was given a pack of provisions for he and Morgana and two vials of ointment for their wounds from Aglain. A relatively large number of the druids saw them off, which all felt ridiculous to Merlin because he was carrying Morgana. He knew she would refuse to leave, and he had no choice but to put her to sleep. It was for her own good. Aglain… wasn’t happy about that detail, but there was no time to fuss over it. He had offered a horse, but Merlin didn’t want anything to tie them back to the druids and had to suffer through carrying Morgana.

Merlin was practically dragging Morgana, his strength waning. He stumbled, propping her up and making his own body a barrier from hers touching the forest floor. The sun was lower in the sky, it was near sunset. Between carrying the ward and having to check directions with his magic, Merlin was spent. His head was pounding so much that it blended with every other sound and it took a particularly large snap to bring him back to reality. There was shouting, growing closer, and what sounded of a thousand men trampling through the forest.

The noise broke through the trees and Arthur burst through, leading a group of other knights that could easily have formed a small army.

He practically fell off his horse as soon as he saw the two on the ground at the edge of the clearing. The prince rushed to Merlin, who laid with Morgana in his arms, still unconscious.

“Is she…” Arthur couldn’t even fully ask the question.

“No,” Merlin shook his head, “just passed out. We were attacked by serkets, they got her leg. She’ll be fine, I managed to get her fever down and dress the wound… It will still be best to get her back to Gaius as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” Arthur breathed, relief that she was alive clear. In a single motion he took Morgana from Merlin, lifting her easily. He carried her back to the knights, securing her on a horse with Leon and motioned for Merlin to get onto his horse; there was a certain discomfort at the thought but he acted regardless. As he pulled himself onto the mount, he couldn’t help but wince, and Arthur was on him in a second, “are you hurt?”

“No, it’s just- it’s nothing.” But if that lie wasn’t obvious enough, the noticeable blood stain across Merlin’s shirt was.

Arthur tugged the shirt up with no warning, exposing where his servant’s midsection was heavily bandaged and causing Merlin’s face to go red. “I’m fine, Arthur,” he said and pushed his shirt back down.

Arthur glared at him before mounting. “You’ll be treated by Gaius as soon as we return and I won’t have you working even the tiniest bit until he declares you’re fit to.”

“I’m _fine_.” He repeated, practically whining, “this- Arthur that’s ridiculous. It’s a scratch. Barely a scratch!”

“If it were as little as that then you wouldn’t have hidden it.”

And that ended their conversation for the journey back to Camelot.

But regardless of the silence between them, Merlin felt like a millenium of stress was releasing itself from his shoulders. The day had been eventful to say the least, and his relief at seeing Arthur was tremendous. Morgana was safe, they were returning to Camelot, and he no longer had to carry her. The purpose behind the journey was loosely achieved, Morgana had spoken of her realization of the purity of magic. Unfortunately, the circumstances meant that she had been unable to truly view the beauty of what flowed through her, and that was a pain Merlin knew would last longer than anything else.

There was undoubtedly a guilt behind it, the knowledge that he forever had Gaius as a mentor and at least there he could be more free with his own powers. Merlin hoped to become such a haven for Morgana, though the fear of exposure would still hover over them both. There had been such a huge risk in coming to Camelot, but having Morgana, Gwen, and even Arthur made his burdens bearable, and all he wanted was to provide the same support for her.  
-  
Night had fallen when Merlin was jolted awake by the sound of yelling and the clip of hooves on cobblestone. He was still on horseback and felt a soreness that had settled throughout his body. This dull pain wasn’t made any better when Arthur yanked him down from his mount. “What-“

“Nice of you to wake up,” the prince pulled him to his feet, “you spent the whole way back snoring in my ear!” Arthur pulled two packs off the horse before handing the reigns to a stablehand. He nodded for Merlin to follow him as they headed inside the palace, going straight for Gaius’s chambers. He now noticed ahead of them where Leon carried Morgana. At this point, he doubted it was his spell that kept her asleep, but rather the genuine exhaustion that had made Merlin accidentally fall asleep.

The physician’s shock was clear when four people came practically breaking down his door in the middle of the night, but the sight of Morgana replaced any offense with concern. “Bring her in,” he motioned to an empty cot, “what happened?”

Arthur and Leon turned to look at Merlin, stumbling in last. Since both he and Morgana had slept the whole journey back, there had been little account of their actions and little opportunity for Merlin to think of a lie. “We-“ he began weakly, and Gaius gave him a knowing look, that whatever was going to be said was only a cover. “Our trip was fine to begin with, and we were making good time… Shouldn’t Uther be here? He’ll no doubt be concerned.” Merlin digressed, looking to Arthur and hoping to give himself even seconds more to think.

“Guards already sent for him,” the prince seemed wholly bothered by the interruption, “he’s on his way down and will expect to hear what you have to say.”

“Yes, and to avoid telling it twice, I’d like to wait until he’s here.” Merlin began to act busy, picking up a water basin and moving to Morgana’s side. Arthur muttered something that sounded very easily like “insufferable.”

Gaius rolled his eyes and said softly, only to his apprentice, “is she alright?”

“Only sleeping now,” the sorcerer breathed back, “her wound has already been healed-“

Another interruption, the king shoved past the door, practically knocking Leon over, “how is she?” He saw Merlin at her side and his brows knit together in fury, “you were supposed to keep her safe!”

“Father,” Arthur stepped to the elder’s side, putting a hand to his shoulder and seeming unnaturally like the face of reason, “I doubt what happened Merlin had any control over.” And here he looked to his servant for confirmation; Gaius mirrored the expectant look.

“Yes, sire.” Merlin stumbled back to his feet and began as he did before, “our trip was fine, at first. However we saw a group of travelers and to avoid being noticed, had to stray from the path. We ended up in the Forest of Ascetir, and much further in than we had anticipated. By the time we tried to turn back it was too late and we found ourselves surrounded by serkets. The horses were scared and ran off, and the Lady Morgana was hit by one of the creatures. I… blacked out, and can’t tell you what happened exactly. We managed to get away, and I used what I could to heal her wound.” He motioned to her leg and was growing increasingly aware how utterly false his tale seemed, and was. “She was unconscious after the accident, but sleeps peacefully now. She will be fine, sire.” The king looked to Gaius, who agreed.

“And I am supposed to believe that _you_ _singlehandedly_ killed off a number of serkets, carried my ward to safety, and healed her?” One would hope Uther had been happy enough at Morgana’s return to ignore a few details but no, his suspicion of everything out-ruled this.

“As I said, sire,” Merlin felt like he was rambling, his deception found out, “I can’t quite remember the specifics. I make no claim to have killed the beasts, but I did my best to keep my Lady safe-“

“And she is,” Gaius cut in, “Morgana will wake by morning, if not sooner, and no doubt be the image of health. We could ask for nothing better.”

Uther let out a tense huff of relief, a small smile flickering across his so-often-stoic visage, “it is no matter then. She is well, and she is home.” He turned from the physician and apprentice to his son and Leon, “Arthur, good work in finding her.” He clapped his son on he back, gave a nod to the other knight and was gone. It felt odd and tense for a moment before their was a collective sigh.

Gaius stood, making himself busy in making Morgana more comfortable as Merlin finally noticed how penetrating the exhaustion in him was. He let slip a small groan, hand flying to his side as the pain replaced subsiding adrenaline. Arthur had been almost to the door, and Leon already gone, when it happened, but he stopped.

“And Gaius, please take a look at Merlin so he doesn’t die because he’s too stubborn to admit he’s injured.”


	6. The Nightmare Begins

“And will you tell me what actually happened?” Gaius asked as soon as Arthur left and he had turned to look at Merlin’s wounds.

The apprentice brushed him off, muttering “I’m fine,” as he pulled out the vials of ointment given to him by Aglain.

Gaius took them, “these are druid markings.” He looked up at Merlin, who avoided his gaze, “Merlin. Did you take Morgana to the druids? The one thing I asked you not to do?”

“You already knew that before I left-“

“ _No_ , I knew you were going to be doing something you shouldn’t. But taking her to the _druids_?! The risks of doing that were greater than anything else!”

Merlin sighed, “you asked we both return safely and we _did_.” He took back his medicine and paused before applying it, “what does this symbol mean?”

The physician glanced at it, but shook his head, “it’s in the old religion, and it’s been many years since I’ve seen runes such as these. There may be a key of sorts in your book.”

Merlin nodded, then froze. “my book.” Frantically he looked around before pushing into his bedroom only to return a moment later with fear painting his features.

“Merlin…”

“The book, it was in my bag,” he started walking around in circles, staring at the floor and running a hand through his hair, “and my bag is gone.”

“Why was it in your bag?” Gaius huffed.

“Because we were going to see the druids! And it could have been useful or at least educational-“

“Educational?! Merlin, if that book is traced back to you it won’t matter if you learned anything, you’ll be dead.”

“I _know_ Gaius!” Merlin kept turning around, as if the bag and more importantly the book would just appear. Both of his hands rested on his head, pulling though his hair; he was trying desperately to think, but after the day he’d had his exhaustion was equally mental as well as physical. “I’ll work it out… tomorrow.”

“Merlin!”

“Tomorrow, Gaius.”  
-  
His, as Arthur later put it, “beauty sleep,” did not in any way help him think of a plan. The best idea was to return to the forest at nightfall and see if he could find the bag, but that –considering how well his last adventure went– was unadvisable.

And the state of his last trip was only emphasized when he woke to see Morgana still on the cot. She was awake now, and Gaius seemed to be gone, so it was only she and Merlin. “Gaius left breakfast,” her voice was clear but restrained as she looked up to him. He nodded, cautious and stepped down into the room.

“Morgana, I just want to say-“

“It’s fine, Merlin,” she gave him a polite smile, “I understand.”

Her trust in him was a punch in the stomach, “no, what I did was wrong. And I told Aglain that I hoped we could return someday.”

She tensed at the sound of the druid’s name, “after coming back to Camelot… hearing Uther… they all would have been killed because of us. Because of me.”

“Wait… hearing Uther? I thought you were asleep when he came in.” Fear gripped him. He couldn’t remember whether his magic had been mentioned explicitly.

Morgana smiled, “yes, well I hardly think you’d finding it surprising that _that_ was an interaction I didn’t want to be a part of.” Merlin agreed wholeheartedly. It’s not like the king was quick to blame Morgana, but when it came to magic he had no limitations. “Though,” and her amusement faded to sincere curiosity, “what was the book you and Gaius spoke of.”

Merlin froze. So they may not have mentioned his magic, but they mentioned the biggest thing that linked him to it. “It’s nothing special-“

“In the same way that wound is nothing severe?”

He forced a laugh, but his mind was racing, “Yes- no! No, it’s… it’s a book about magic. I mean, not _about magic_ but it has some information on the old religion, spells…” Every warning Gaius and Kilgarrah had given him were screaming to the forefront of his mind. Telling Morgana this was overstepping, but he wanted to trust her. No. He did trust her, and he wanted her to trust him. Even if he could never explicitly say he had magic, for fear Gaius would kill him and Camelot would fall to ruin, he could show how thoroughly it affected him. “It was Will’s.” He needed to stop using the memory of people like this, Will and Gorlois both ruined through his deceit. “I hoped to show it to you, but as you probably heard, I don’t have it.”

“Merlin,” Morgana breathed, her eyes were wide with clear shock, but there was something else behind it that could have been pity, but Merlin wanted to say it was the mutual compassion and reassurance he sought. “Gaius is right, if that’s traced back to you, Uther will have your head. Even if you don’t have magic yourself.”

“I know… I’ll try to sort it out.” He smiled softly, glad she worried for him, pained he was lying. The length of their conversation dawned on him, “I’ve got to go, _Arthur_ will have my head if I’m late.”  
-  
The prince had a day of training planned for his knights and unfortunately it was training that made Merlin a participant. “Come on Merlin! At least give us a challenge!” The crown prat in question yelled from across the training field as his servant hefted up a shield. He tried lifting it higher, shifting the weight of it onto his legs. There was a thunk of another knight hitting the mark and the clang of sword to metal. Merlin could feel the power of the blow reverberate, and despite the effort he was trying to put in, he collapsed. Someone yelled, but he couldn’t hear clearly. Another voice, closer, and suddenly there was light as the shield was lifted.

“Merlin!”

It was slightly panicked, and Merlin blinked a few times before making out Arthur’s face. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you look concerned,” the sorcerer smirked despite pain shooting through his side.

“Do you ever shut up?” Arthur huffed and pushed the shield aside. “I’m guessing you didn’t even bother letting Gaius look at your wound.”

“It’s barely anything! A _scratch_!”  
-  
“Two broken ribs.” Gaius stated.

Arthur had dragged Merlin back to the physician’s home and ended training early. Merlin had continued to insist he was fine, even when practically doubled over in pain. The healing Gaius had attempted last night and Merlin put off was finally addressed, and the wound revealed. There was a large bruise splotching almost entirely over the sorcerer’s ribs on his left side and two long cuts down his right.

The prince breathed “what the hell,” as soon as he saw it. “A scratch?” Merlin avoided his gaze and allowed Gaius to redress the cuts.

Arthur returned to the castle and as soon as he did the bottle from the druids was pulled out. Whatever the ointment was, it helped ease the pain, but the physician was still wary of its origins and message.

“I’ll leave tonight, to try and find the book,” Merlin said, but Gaius gave him a look that addressed the state he was in.

“That’s not the best idea,” the physician sighed, “tonight is a feast, Uther and his extravagance… the grounds will be crawling with guards. Sneaking out of the walls will be impossible.”

“A feast?!” Merlin stood up and started rushing toward the door.

“And where are you going?” Gaius quirked a brow with his familiar curious expression.

“I apparently have to prepare Arthur for a feast, he’s absolute rubbish at doing anything himself.”

“And your injury?”

“I’ll deal with a busted side so I can keep my head. I can’t imagine Uther will be happy if Arthur shows up looking horrid.” Merlin stepped back out the door, “and if he’s responsible for himself, trust me, he will.”  
-  
“I thought I said you wouldn’t work again until Gaius approved it.” Arthur said when he returned to his chambers to find Merlin polishing his armor.

“And when have I ever listened to you?” He smiled, abandoned cleaning to cross the room, and picked up two tunics.

Arthur grabbed the red shirt and went behind the changing screen, “you realize it _is_ actually your job to listen to me?”

“Yes, but you did beg me to make sure you don’t have to find a new manservant,” Merlin smiled and walked back over to the armor.

“It’s not like I would be able to find anyone worse,” Arthur stepped out from behind the screen and tossed dirty clothes at Merlin. “You’ve truly set the bar very low.”

“Not low enough for you to have sacked me!”

Arthur picked up a random object, no doubt to throw at his servant when there was a knock on his chamber door, the request for him to join the feast.  
-  
Uther was beaming through the ceremony, which still seemed to lack a definite purpose. Regardless, he’d pulled out the stops as usual, and the hall was filled with nobility. Merlin and many of the other servants milled about carrying trays, and every one bearing alcohol seemed exceedingly popular. Uther and Arthur’s similarly loud laughs would echo through the stone chamber and be cause waves of approval through the court. In one such moment of tidal humor, Merlin felt a hand on his arm and turned to Morgana.

As always she was stunning, in rich emerald robes with her hair seeming to shimmer with the aid of gems of a size that rivaled sand grains. Her eyes were wide and her kind smile a cover for concern, “have you figured out a plan?”

Never would he have expected her to have such concern for him; Merlin for a moment wondered if she feared he would expose her in the event the book was traced back to him. However he would never do that, just as she would never be so base. “I hope to ride into the forest tonight, see if it’s still there.” But he glanced over at where the king drunkenly threw an arm out to his equally intoxicated son.

Morgana followed his gaze and with an uncertain smile. “With Arthur in such a state, you won’t be getting out of this feast soon, let alone the citadel.” Her look grew into something softer and they both privately remembered the night only so recently when they had carried Arthur out of the hall, which had led to her confidence in him. “I’ll claim exhaustion, I’ll go-“

“Morgana, I can’t ask you to do that for me. Getting caught sneaking out is suspicious enough, but I can’t ask you to get that book for me. Uther will have you killed,”

The ward’s face cracked into a mischievous grin that would have been unattractive on any other face. Her top lip curled and she shot Merlin a sly wink, leaning in just slightly, voice hardly above a whisper, “not if he doesn’t catch me.” She took a beverage from his tray as if she was only now noticing it with the air of someone whose mind would never be changed.

The whole shift in her demeanor had caused the sorcerer to take a step back, but he couldn’t prevent his amusement from shining through. There was always something about Morgana’s teasing determination towards Arthur… and to have it aimed at him was almost refreshing. It made the stakes and subject of their reality seem to disappear, the plan just becoming a detail in a fantasy they had written. He watched Morgana down the drink and set the now empty glass aside. There was a buzz to her that was almost contagious, as if the roaring Pendragon laughter was enchanting the whole room, and if Merlin didn’t know better he would say it was.

Arthur and some of the knights had taken to what may have been considered singing, like they were in a tavern and not the king’s great hall. Morgana swayed with some great lady whose name Merlin couldn’t place and her own laughter chimed in. A Romantic would say the servants with their silver trays were dancers in the middle of chaos, gracefully weaving between nobles with more purpose and dignity than anyone else. The whole scene made the sorcerer’s stomach flip, an image of such great joy was captured in Camelot’s court that stood unparalleled.

But Merlin’s skin crawled, his nerves, and maybe beyond that his _magic_ was on end. It was as though he were not truly in the moment, watching through a veil a second behind all around him. A force seemed to be creeping through his blood, starting from where his feet rooted him to the cobblestone floor and ending up where his hair stood on end.

Sound anticipated action, the chamber doors were flung open with a sickening crunch, echoed by the clatter of goblets and at least one serving tray. A knight walked in with a cool yet confident air, as if the exact degree of gaiety had been calculated before it was interrupted. Metal as black as night reflected the shocked faces of intoxicated patrons and the rising king. Uther stood at the head of his banquet, seeming to sober in the face of the stranger, who stopped before the royal family. Arthur grew serious in time to pick up the gauntlet thrown to the ground.

“And may I know your identity before our match?” he asked after the terms were decided.

Merlin felt like he had finally snapped back into reality as the helmet was slowly pulled off with the most heightened sense of purpose.

The palest blonde hair fell onto the polished armor and the thin, pointed face of a foreign woman was revealed.

“I hope you to be a man of your honor, Arthur Pendragon,” her voice carried surprisingly well and there was no doubt everyone heard. She had a clear tenor and a demeanor that showed each move was planned, from her arrival to the shift of her lip in that smile she wore. The silence she left in almost perfectly matched the thunder she had announced herself in and Arthur was left looking rather ill at the center of the room, still holding the rich gauntlet in his hand.


	7. To Kill the King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow i love dialogue

It goes without saying that the arrival of the stranger ruined Uther’s festivities and sobered the party. Merlin had followed Arthur silently up the stairs back to his chambers, only for the tension to be broken as soon as the door shut. The prince threw down his cape and formalities, slumping into his chair.

“How am I supposed to fight a woman?”

“The same way you would fight a man,” Merlin gathered up the abandoned belongings and could practically feel Arthur glaring at him.

“Yes,” he bit and restlessly stood back up, pacing in front of the window, “if she were to withdraw, I wouldn’t be at fault.”

Merlin laughed, “I doubt she’ll withdraw. You saw how she stormed in, I’d say she may even prove an equal match.

“Merlin.”

“Shut up?”

Arthur just smiled.  
-  
There was something about the knight that irked Morgana. She couldn’t place it, a feeling deep inside her that made her skin crawl and feel more restless than any sleepless night could. On top of that was the nagging fact that a book of magic laid unclaimed in Camelot. She would admit only to herself that her offer to go get it was not truly for Merlin’s sake. Without a doubt, she would benefit from the knowledge, but why waste time on a book when along the same path lay the druids. With the arrival of a stranger, it was the perfect cover. The woman knight would easily be labeled a distraction by Uther and Morgana would have the head start to avoid getting caught. It was an imperfect plan, but the promise of magic -of acceptance- was too much.

Getting past guards and through the lower town with increased patrols was not simple; however, outside the city it was as quiet as usual, and the stir of nightlife seemed to rise up. The feeling of unease grew as Morgana found herself again in the Forest of Ascetir; it was as though the magic she sought was reaching out to her.

And that thought seemed certain when there was a flash of light not unlike the one days before. Regret filled the ward at not bringing a weapon and she turned around to see the same knight from earlier. She stood much more relaxed than she had in her confrontation at court, but her armor made only her head seem to truly be tangible. While her heart was pounding out of her chest, Morgana realized the light had isolated them. All sound of the forest had disappeared and the stars even seemed to shine brighter, but perhaps some of that was from the stranger’s reflective armor and near-translucent hair.

“I can’t imagine the king would be happy to see you so far from the castle at this time of night,” her voice was clear and calm, each word sharp with purpose.

“No happier than he is now, after you’ve challenged his son.” Morgana felt so entirely unsure of what was happening that the ground could have swallowed her up and she wouldn’t have been surprised. And beyond that, the woman had clearly used magic in front of her, that much was undeniable.

“I mean him no real harm,” the woman smiled, but to Morgana it was anything but reassuring.

There was the obvious question of “then why challenge him” but something said it would not yet be so simply answered. The uneasiness in her bones was only growing. “Have we met,” she asked suddenly, “I feel as though I know you.”

“Once perhaps,” a cryptic answer as any, “though I have some doubt you truly remember it. I was in Camelot once before, many years ago.”

“May I at least have your name then?”

“Morgause.”

Morgause. It didn’t strike a cord. Not even remotely. “Well, Morgause, in discussing what Uther may not be happy with, I truly believe your display beats all else.”

“The challenge or the magic?” So she has no issue mentioning it. The word set Morgana’s senses alight, with curiosity or fear she was unsure.

“Both.” Morgana smiled in a way uncomfortably similar to how Morgause had.

“I do little I expect him to approve of, but something tells me we might agree on that account.” She quirked a brow and it only seems to make her face more pointed, “I believe you will find yourself up against him eventually, and I hope at that point we may meet again.”

The blonde nodded and seemed ready to leave, but there was no way Morgana was ending on that note. “That could easily have been a threat,” she said, trying more for attention than speaking with a purpose. “Treason. You want to see me up against the king?”

“Definitely treason,” a wicked grin accompanied the woman as she turned with a flourish, “I live to see Uther Pendragon fall.”

“I do not care for him either,” Morgana struggled to figure whether her heart or mind was moving faster, “how he opposes magic and those who have it… his reign is cruel and malicious. But now you make me curious, why fight Arthur?”

“Perhaps I will not,” Morgause smiled more politely than malevolently, “I believe this conversation will come to fruition just as that duel would have. Now, let me leave you with this.” She held out a banded bracelet that seemed to have appeared from the air itself, on an outstretched palm. “A cure for nightmares. I wish you only the best, for when we meet again, Lady Morgana.”  
-  
The morning bells chimed as Merlin burst into the crown prince’s chambers, “Arthur!”

A pillow was weakly thrown and a lump of covers began to shift. The manservant threw open the curtains and bright, cheerful sunlight streamed in. “ _Mer_ lin, how many times will I have to teach you to knock?”

“Never enough times!” He placed down a tray of breakfast but could hardly contain himself. The prince finally stirred and sat up, hair a mess. It stuck up in every possible direction and Merlin only smiled wider, “Arthur. The knight is gone!”

“Yes Merlin, that’s what happens when the sun comes up,” came the sleep-addled response, and Arthur swung his legs onto the floor, tramping to his table.

“No no no, the _knight_. The woman. You don’t have to worry about the code and your honor or whatever, _she withdrew_.”

The meaning hit Arthur hard enough to fully wake him up. The knight! “Really? I don’t have to fight her? Well what happened?!”

Merlin was practically jumping in the air and delved into the story that was filling the ears of the whole of Camelot. At some point last night, it seemed the stranger had left the town, for she was seen walking back into the city just after dawn. She came right from the lower town to the front of the citadel, walked right into council and withdrew from the challenge. She said she had done all she needed to and no blood need be shed, though she hoped for the opportunity to challenge the prince again. It seems Uther wanted to protest, wanted her to stay and fight but perhaps it was only so she could stay and answer the curiosity burning in all of them. Just as quickly yet dramatically as she had arrived, she left. She rode out of Camelot without another word. Some townspeople said she knew she would lose to Arthur and withdrew from embarrassment, other say it was all some sort of ruse and something more was afoot, while others claimed it was some prank. Regardless, the woman was gone and both Arthur and Merlin were greatly relieved

As soon as Arthur was dressed for training, Merlin headed back down with a basket of dirty laundry he had been putting off. A bit of magic would get it done quickly, because what Arthur didn’t know definitely didn’t hurt him. However, as soon as he rounded the corner, he found Morgana, standing before a courtyard window in a daze. She looked to him only when he tapped her shoulder.

“Oh Merlin, I have so much to tell you.”  
-  
It wasn’t until that night that the two of them had been able to breathe, and even that moment was short lived. Merlin had almost immediately had to return to Arthur’s quarters and when he did, Morgana followed.

“What is she doing here?” the prince asked and his servant could only shrug.

“I’ve been trying to speak with Merlin all day,” she cried, motioning for them both to sit down and Arthur wanted to protest that he had not control over him in his own room. “It’s about Morgause.”

“Morgause?”

“The stranger, the woman knight. I met her last night, by chance, outside the city walls.”

“And what were you doing outside the city walls?!” Arthur stood from his chair as if he had truly been settled in it and Merlin looked sheepish, knowing exactly what Morgana had been doing. Well, not exactly, but he blamed himself, unaware of her intent to run away.

“Let her speak, Arthur,” Merlin’s voice was uncharacteristically soothing as he reached a hand out to Arthur, who reseated himself with a familiar pout.

“Anyway,” she sighed after the interruption, “I spoke with her, which is how I know her name. I feel as though I’ve met her before, and she claimed she was once in Camelot many years ago. But much more importantly, she says she plans to come back.” She paused, perhaps for emphasis, but it seemed Morgana truly needed the moment to gather her thoughts, or come to to terms with them. “I believe she wished to kill Uther, though it seems she means no harm to either of us.”

“Then why challenge me?” Arthur was back out of his seat and there was no helping it.

“I don’t know!” Morgana sighed and let out an exasperated laugh, “I’ve been mulling over it since she left, but I have no clue. She said she wished you no harm, and seemed disappointed at the loss of a duel… But she said my conversation with her may prove just as beneficial, so there was no reason to fight.”

“And what did you talk about?”

“I already said!” the bickered as usual, but Arthur was confused at the whole scenario and Morgana just increasingly frustrated with his interruptions. “She wants Uther dead, and seems to think I will play some role in such an event.”

The treason of such a statement didn’t need to be emphasized, it was present enough in all their minds. Equally as urgent was the multitude of questions on the tip of Merlin’s tongue. When he finally composed himself enough to ask something, he stopped as two sensations hit him full force. Morgana had lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair back and the glint of a bracelet had shone. In the same second, a wave of power had washed over him and he had no doubts of its origins. “Where did you get that?”

The question made Morgana freeze and Arthur stop pacing, looking to see what had attracted their attention. Turning her wrist over, the silver band was clear, with accenting gold. It’s appearance was unimportant to Merlin, who only focused on the magic emanating from it. “Morgause…” Morgana whispered, the circumstances dawned on her. “She held it up to me, promised she would return to Camelot one day. She promised to return for me, to kill Uther, and this-“ she pulled the cuff from her arm with disgust, “was to help me sleep. I don’t remember anything after that.”

“What do you mean you don’t remember?” Arthur huffed, taking the piece of jewelry and inspecting it before looking at Morgana.

She only shook her head, but glanced at Merlin with a certain thinly-masked desperation. “I don’t remember, Arthur. She held this out to me, and that’s it.” Merlin knew there was more to it. The guilt of not being able to tell Arthur plagued them both, but in this situation it seemed to be for the best. If he were to know of Morgana’s magic, or even Merlin’s in this moment, any trust or care for their wellbeing would be jeopardized. As the prince turned towards the window, the other two shared a glance. Their conversation wasn’t over.

“There’s little we could do, other than hope this Morgause does not return,” Arthur finally said, in a voice that held all his calm authority. “Uther… the king shouldn’t know of any of this. Camelot needs his full attention, the belief of an assassination would cause paranoia. We can do what we can to find out more about this stranger, but I believe the information would be best kept within this room.” There was a certain undeniable irony in Arthur’s proposal to keep such a secret that Merlin found almost humorous. Even with that context, neither he nor Morgana could deny the prince was right.

Finally retiring, Merlin walked with Morgana back to her chambers. She spoke softly in the same voice she had used at the banquet the night before, the voice hat begged him to lean closer. In his impassioned whisper she said, “Morgause has magic.”

“The bracelet-“

“More than that. And she seemed to have clear command of it, with no hesitation using it in front of me. That was what she really spoke of. I believe she knows of my… state.”

Puzzle pieces slid into place. Morgause wanted Uther dead, of course she did. Just like Morgana and Merlin, she was an individual deemed a criminal, persecuted at punishment of death by the Camelot sovereign. Her knowledge of Morgana’s powers he couldn’t explain, unless she held the innate sense of the unnatural all magic folk held. Regardless of proof or intuition, Morgause knew of Morgana’s gift and wanted to act off that connection to plan an assassination. The other occasions in which Merlin had had the knowledge and ability to allow for Uther’s death to go unhindered flashed into his memory.

“You can’t listen to her,” he breathed, as they finally stopped before her chamber doors. “Morgause won’t be the only one who wants to kill Uther because of his position on magic, and she won’t be the only one to try to use you. I promise I want to see Camelot change just as you do, but if Uther is killed in an attempt to reinstate magic, Arthur’s distrust of it would just grow.” There was a gross relief in being able to finally voice his own burdens; the disgust stemmed from his transfer of such thoughts onto Morgana. “He’s not ready to have the crown, but if he was given it because both his parents were killed by magic, there would be no hope for us— for you. In Camelot.”

She nodded, breathing a weighty “I know.”

“Please get some rest,” Merlin smiled softly and held one shoulder reassuringly, “and don’t try to sneak out this time.”  
-  
“Merlin,” Arthur sighed after he had finished breakfast the next morning. He had sat eating in silence so heavy Merlin wondered if he had broken something by thinking so hard. “I understand Morgana is beautiful, and you grew up in a very sheltered environment-“

“What?!” Merlin was so shocked and confused he could hardly figure out whether or not to laugh.

Arthur held up a hand to silence him, as if this speech was the most important moment the two of them would ever share. “I _understand_ , but _you_ must understand that whatever you are hoping for between the two of you simply cannot continue.”

And now Merlin laugh simply and loudly, to which Arthur seemed more aggravated than put off, “me? And the Lady Morgana? No! You seem so… _fixated_ on my relationship with her. Is the great Arthur Pendragon feeling left out?” The prince had unknowingly provided Merlin with a lifetime of material to tease him with. “Or are you -dare I say- jealous?”

Immediately the manservant ducked behind the bed as a number of objects were pelted at him, from laundry to goblets, and clattered against the wall. Merlin was in a heap on the floor, holding his side and dying laughing while Arthur’s face had gone a shade or two pinker and he stumbled over “that’s not what I meant,” and scoffed at “jealous.” Laughter subsided and a teary-eyed Merlin poked his head up to see Arthur left with nothing else to throw and only pointing a threatening finger at the other man.

“Fine!” The prince gave a most toddler-like huff and put his hands in his hips, “then please do explain the looks you shared with Morgana last night.”

“My god Arthur if you thought those were _romantic_ I would hate to be on the other end of your flirting.” If possible, Arthur reddened more. However, Merlin couldn’t comment on his hue when it was the most sobering remark, for the glances had been entirely of guilt and secrecy. “I blame myself, for what occurred two nights ago, between Morgana and Morgause.” Arthur raised a brow and the teasing insincerity of moments before was entirely abandoned. “I’m the reason Morgana went outside the citadel. When we were in the forest, when we were attacked, I seem to have lost something of more… personal value, and I hoped to sneak off and retrieve it. Morgana knew this, and wanted to go in my place, seeing your state at the feast. Well after the knight showed up I knew there was no way I could sneak out of the city, but it seemed Morgana decided to anyway-“

“And you just let Morgana leave the city? Alone?”

“I didn’t realize she would go through with it!” The fact that the woman may have had a hidden motive dawned on Merlin. Of course she would help him, of course she would return to the forest. How stupid he was. “And I didn’t ask her to go for me, that was her choice. It doesn’t matter now, my belongings are still lost and the escapade meant Morgause left.”

Arthur sighed and shook his head. He seemed to have a more parental disappointment for the truth than anger, and Merlin wasn’t sure whether that was a relief. “What did you lose? I’m sure there is a way we could replace it if it was so important.”

Merlin too shook his head, “no. Morgana already risked her life for me. It’s not worth it.”

“Merlin.”

The sorcerer has been making rounds in the room, picking up all that had been thrown as well as making up for days of neglected duties. Arthur cleared his throat, demanding an answer. “My bag,” he finally stated.

“Your _bag_?” the prince repeated with as much dissatisfaction as he seemed to have with everything that had been revealed to him in the past day. “Your bag isn’t in the forest,” his tone had shifted, making it seem like this was a fact as clear as day. And given the circumstances, the location of his belongings was not so evident. “I found it in the clearing,” Arthur moved across the room and after a few moments retrieved the subject from a corner of his room, “it helped lead me to you and Morgana, actually.”

Merlin gawked. All the panic he had gone through, jumping through hoops and beating himself up to try and find this bag and Arthur had it the whole time. “It’s been days! Why didn’t you give this back to me earlier?! And how have you kept it in here the whole time, I clean every inch of this room!”

“Goes to show how well you do your job,” Arthur’s dignity that had been so destroyed earlier was building up into that familiar egotistical pride. “And I hardly need to remind you the circumstances since you’ve returned, I forgot I still had it.”

Worry faded to sheer joy as Merlin had the leather sack back in his hands. He could feel the heavy, reassuring pressure of the book within. “Did you find my neckerchief? I seem to have lost that too.”

“No,” Arthur answered almost too quickly with a shake of his head, “just- we just found the bag.”

Merlin wasn’t going to bother with how untrue that sounded, too relieved to have his book back. Not only did it reassure that it wouldn’t be found and traced back to him in a way that guaranteed his death, but it meant the opportunity to teach Morgana. He had a certain fear that she suspected Will was a front, and his slip up the night before had in no way helped, but considering neither of them mentioned it he hoped for the best. The worst thing was the great unknown that was Morgause. He would tell all he could to Gaius despite what Arthur has said. The secrecy the three of them had agreed to was undeniably advisable, but informing Gaius of a limited amount of information would allow them the opportunity to find out what they could on Morgause, which would no doubt be beneficial.


End file.
